The Crooked Kind
by swaggyzebraTW
Summary: Jem is terribly sick, and is unable to even leave his bed. Everyone in the Institute thinks this might be the end for him, and Tessa just can't deal with all the stress going on in her life. She turns to self harm, but will someone be able to stop her and save her before she seriously harms herself? Will/Tessa/Jem, T for self harm (not too graphic, though).


**AN: Here's my first **_**Infernal Devices**_** fic, and I hope you all like it. Might be a little OOC and AU, and it certainly contains some dark references, but I think it's decent. Please review. **

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Cassie Clare, the owner of **_**The Infernal Devices**_**, and the quote used towards the end is not mine but Joe Mantegna's. **

I rolled up my dress sleeves with haste; almost tearing the fabric along its seams in my desperation to expose my pale wrists. Normally, I would consider this entire act so unladylike that I would never even consider doing what I was about to do, but for some reason, I felt as though the burden upon my back could not be lifted off my shoulders in any other way.

I knew little about self-harm, and had only learned of it recently whilst reading a novel I found in the Institute's library. Upon first reading about the topic, I had been appalled. It had made little sense to me why anyone would ever want to harm themselves to the brink of death; it just simply didn't appeal to me, and I didn't think it remotely sensible.

However, when I had first learned about self-harm, I had been fairly happy with how my life was going. Sure, I had just dealt with being introduced to the shadow world and all the madness involving Mortmain and my newfound abilities, but I was _happy_. The people residing within the London Institute had shown me extreme kindness, or at least everyone except possibly Jessamine, who seemed weary of my presence after I had chosen to stay in the Institute for longer than originally planned. I suppose she simply was jealous of my ability to simply leave the life of shadow-hunters, or at least she thought that I could just waltz away from this life, and I guess she thought I was ruining my life and wasting all of my opportunity.

But, I couldn't leave. Nothing good awaited me outside of the sacred walls, and Mortmain would surely find me eventually and force me to give him all my power, which was something I never wish to do. Not to mention, I had grown fond of Charlotte and Will and Jem-

_Jem_. The reason behind me holding a dinner-knife in my hand and pointing it at my now bared wrists. His illness had gotten so bad lately, he hadn't been able to even leave bed. Will was by his side at most hours, and from the word that had gone through the corridors, I knew Jem's condition was only declining. Surely, the demon poison was finally taking its toll on his body, and had weakened it beyond belief. Not even the drug could rejuvenate him for any period of time, and although no one said it aloud, Jem was close to death. So close to death in fact, that Will had mumbled once that he could see the darkened hands of death reaching at Jem in his bed. Although this was obviously not true in the literal sense, as death is not tangible and cannot be seen, let alone have hands; it was true that Jem had come so close to dying as of late that CPR had to be performed on him twice already.

The Silent Brothers had no news to tell us, either; there was no new cure to be found for Jem's illness. They had been visiting a lot recently, always requesting to be alone with Jem for long periods of time multiple days a week. Will occasionally joked that they were making Jem one of them, although his banter and lightness was infrequent with all the stress brought upon his shoulders via his parabatai.

I wasn't allowed to visit Jem that often, as he was sleeping most of the day and all of the night. Charlotte assured me that he was okay, although it was easy to see that he wasn't. His face was startlingly pale, and his hair was dull and lifeless-looking. Even his eyes seemed to have a deathly glow to them, and he was too tired to even consider doing anything.

It was when brother Enoch simply stated that Jem wasn't going to get better and that his time was soon that I rushed up to my room in tears, finally carrying myself behind the divider and into the bath part of the bedroom, carrying this here knife.

Gulping, I looked down at the pale map of blue veins laying under my paled flesh. I wondered how much blood was being carried through them, and if I could possibly kill myself with one single slit of the wrist.

Although I was contemplating harming myself, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to die. There was a slim chance still that Jem would pull through and all would go back to normal—or as normal as my life could get at this point. And, if I were to kill myself right now, I'm pretty sure that most of the Institute would be ashamed of me. It would be unladylike to do so, though I suppose a lot of things in this place were done in a very unladylike manner.

_Would Jem want you to do this to yourself, Tessa? _I asked myself, not for the first time.

"Probably not," I answered aloud, my voice soft as it cut through the otherwise silent air. "But, I don't see any other solution to my problems."

_What about William? _The voice in my head continued, reminding me of my second love.

"I'm engaged to Jem," I said, hoping that my saying it would make it more convincing, although it didn't change much. Deep down, I knew that I loved both boys, and not really one more than the other. They both had their own special quirks; their own weaknesses. Both were equally beautiful; Will in the more common way, while Jem had his own sort of beauty. Their personalities couldn't have really been more different, although both had kind hearts in the end.

I sighed, setting down the knife on the side of the tub. I had come up here to escape the two boys, not to think about them and all the problems in my life. I had come up here to escape all my troubles, not add to them or reflect on them. Sitting down on a wooden chair, I set my head in my hands and closed my eyes.

Various imaged flickered behind my eyelids, though almost none of them were welcome. The thought of Jem finally dying, saying his last words and taking his last breaths. William finally falling apart after loosing his parabatai. Jem and I walking through the city hand-in-hand as he showed me all of his favorite sights. Will and I kissing all that time ago in the attic while he was soaked with holy water and coughing up blood. Charlotte clutching Henry as she cried over the loss of her pretty-much son after knowing him for so long and raising him; teaching him everything they knew. Jessamine tearing up and never getting the chance to leave the Institute and life of shadow-hunters as she had wished.

During my reverie, I failed to hear the door open or the footsteps as someone approached. I had picked up the knife once more, and I began to draw it along my skin. Wincing, I watched as a river of crimson spilled from the cut.

The pain was intense enough that it was all I could think about, but it wasn't unbearable. I was in awe of how I felt, and I couldn't believe that I wasn't thinking about Will or Charlotte or Jem. Wishing to prolong the peace of sorts, I dragged the knife along my flesh once more, this time making a longer gash that spilled blood onto the floor.

"Tessa?" A voice asked from behind me, making me turn immediately in surprise.

"Will! What are you doing here?" I sputtered, quickly hiding my arm and the knife behind me.

I was too late; the look in Will's eyes told me that much. His mouth widened as he stepped behind the curtain, walking towards me with outstretched arms. "Tess, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, Will-" I defended, only to get cut off.

"Let me see your arm." He ordered, his voice stern despite the low volume at which he spoke.

I sighed and handed him my untouched arm, allowing him to inspect it. His eyes flicked quickly up the expanse of paleness, before he detached his fingers from my wrist. "Other one," he demanded.

"I'm fine, that's not really necessary, Will-" I tried to convince him that I didn't need his judgement, but he appeared to be relentless.

"I don't mind, I have plenty of time." He said, his voice infuriatingly calm.

"Maybe I don't want your help, Will!" I snapped, shoving at him with my good arm as I walked towards the exit.

An arm wrapped around my waist, spinning me so that I was back to facing Will, and his face softened. "Come on, Tess. Let me see."

Seeing no way out of it, I tentatively reached out with my bloodied wrist. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't have to see his reaction, although my ears still heard the gasp that came from his lips as he spotted the bloody wounds upon my otherwise blemish-free flesh.

"Tess-" He said weakly, sounding as though tears were fighting to the surface. "Why?"

I shook my head, as I didn't really have an answer that I could understand myself. "Jem," I stated blandly, as though it explained everything that I was feeling to him.

"Is that what all of—"he gestured around my arm with his hands—"_this_ is about?!"

I said nothing; I couldn't find the will to say anything.

Will launched in to a full-out rant. "Do you think that Jem would want you to do this to yourself? Where will this get you, Tessa? What if you were to get seriously hurt, or even kill yourself? Do you think that wouldn't have an effect on the rest of us? If we had to take care of both you and Jem, do you think that we could provide the both of you with our full attention, or is that what you want? Attention? Don't you see that everyone already loved you like family, and that I am in love with you-" He trailed off at the end, seeing that he had just revealed his feelings too much.

"You love me?" I asked, my voice soft and barely audible even in the newfound silence.

Will released my arm and turned away. "Of course I do," he mumbled. "Though you seem too blind to notice with your obsession with harming yourself and getting in Jem's pants."

A blush worked its way onto my cheeks, but anger began to boil in my veins. "I am not 'in Jem's pants' at all, Will, and I most certainly am not blind! You on the other hand should be the one who is ashamed of yourself, as you seem to be in love with the woman who is _engaged_ with your parabatai!"

I placed a hand over my mouth, instantly regretting those words.

"Don't pretend that I'm the only one who is in love," Will said, turning back to face me.

I knew what he was hinting at, although I pretended not to. "Of course I'm in love, Will." I stated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "With Jem," I added.

"And me," Will said confidently, taking another step in my direction so that he was only inches away from me and I could feel his breath on my face.

My mouth opened as though it wished to say something in response, but no words came.

Will leaned in closer to me, his lips going to my ear as he whispered, "I know you love Jem, but you also love _me, _Tessa."

My head shook, but a contradicting shiver ran through my spine at the closeness of his face to mine. "That's not true," I whispered, the words not even sounding remotely believable to my own ears.

"Yes it is, and you know it." Will said, his face still close to mine; too close.

"Even if it was," I said, pausing to think over the best way to phrase my words. "I am still engaged to Jem."

"Who's going to be dead soon." Will interrupted.

I gasped. "Don't say such a thing! He could still be fine-"

"Tess," He said, his voice soft as though he were bringing bad news to a small child. "I talked to him today."

"So? You talk to him everyday. What made this conversation so special?" I snapped.

"Because it was about _you_."

I swallowed harshly, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Possibly, it was because of the blood loss or from the stress of this whole conversation. Either way, it wasn't comfortable.

"Let me patch you up a little and I'll tell you about it, okay?" He asked, placing a hand on the small of my back.

Nodding, I allowed him to lead me back into the main part of the bedroom, where he set me down on the trunk before the bed. Walking over to a nearby chest of drawers, he opened the top one and drew out a small first aid kit. How he had known it would be there was unknown to me, but I guess it was good that he did.

Wordlessly, he knelt down before me and began to go through the contents of the kit. He tossed aside some cast material along with some smaller bandages before he finally drew out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large roll of bandaging tape.

"This is going to sting," he warned, motioning to the bottle in his hand. "But I suppose you like pain and harming yourself, right?"

"Will-" I protested, only to have him cut me off.

"No, I'm sorry. That was very cruel of me. I wouldn't want to not be proper, would I?"

My mouth moved to speak, but he continued anyway, giving me no time to respond.

"Though I suppose you wouldn't be a good judge of that, would you, _Theresa_?"

I was used to hearing people call me by my full first name, but none of those people were William Herondale. The way he spoke it was like he absolutely loathed it and its owner, and I flinched because of it. The bitterness in his voice was surprising, and I found myself speechless.

He said nothing further, and simply began to make staccato movements to help wrap up my arm. Despite his anger and obviously sour mood, he was gentle with the alcohol-soaked rag, and tried his best not to cause me any more pain as he wiped away the dried blood from my skin.

Holding the cloth to the wound to prevent further bleeding, he ripped off a part of bandage and pressed it onto the wound. He was frowning; though his eyes showed multiple raw emotions that he was obviously trying to suppress. I couldn't quite read them, but if I were to guess, I would say that they involved guilt and remorse and possibly love.

His hard voice brought me out of my reverie.

"So, I must ask, do you find flirting with death amusing?" He asked, wrapping some more bandages around my wrist.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you enjoy harming yourself to the brink of death?" Will explained, his eyes focused on the task of 'patching' me up.

"Of course not-"

"Why do you do it then?" He asked, his hands pausing as he looked up and into my eyes. "Surely it doesn't feel good-"

"It doesn't." I confirmed.

He sighed. "That brings me back to my origin question, why do you do it, then?"

"I don't know, I read about it in one of my books one day, and although I was originally appalled-"

"Like you should have been," he interrupted. "I'm fighting the urge to vomit as we speak."

I winced as the wrap tightened around my forearm.

"I suppose it just helped me forget about everything…" I reasoned, trailing off because there really wasn't any other excuse for what I had done.

"And what were you planning on doing once it all came back?" Will asked, a little too loudly. "Would have just hurt yourself until you could hurt no more and your blood would be spilled all over the floor and you wouldn't be living-"

"Of course not!" I said, indignant.

Will's hands fastened the rest of the wrap onto my arm, and his hands only lingered for a little bit longer than necessary. "Well, just don't do it again." He said, his tone softer than earlier. "I just can't keep my eye on you all the time and happen to rush in to save you before nothing too bad happens to you. So, be a little more careful, okay?"

I nodded, and he stood up to walk to the door.

"Wait!" I blurted, my hands reaching out on their own accord.

"What?" He asked, his tone sounding irritated although he acted as though he were actually happy to be recalled.

_Boys don't make any sense,_ I thought to myself.

"I'm sorry,"

"Yeah, yeah." He said, waving his hands dismissively. "I suppose this is the part where you admit that you love me but we can never be, because you are with Jem. Well, you can save your breath."

That might have been what I was going to say, I don't know. But, there was little way I wanted to admit that to Will.

"What did you come here to do originally?" I asked, the idea finally coming to me.

He paused before answering. "Well, not that I really have to have a reason to see you, but it was because I wanted to talk to you about what Jem and I just talked about."

"What was that, exactly?" I asked, a little too worried. _What if it was about me and it was bad? What if Jem doesn't love me anymore?_ I thought foolishly.

"Even he knows he's dying, Tessa." Will stated, his eyes looking glassy in the distance.

I said nothing, and he took it as a sign to continue.

"He doesn't want you to be miserable when it finally happens."

A single tear rolled down my cheek at the thought of Jem talking about his own death, and how he thought it would be soon. No man should have to spend the last of his life thinking about what was coming for him and what others would think. _Stop thinking about him dying_, I chastised myself. _He's going to be okay._

Will sucked in a wobbly breath and continued on. "Jem doesn't want you to be so saddened by his passing that you don't enjoy your life, or that it's all you think about. Sure, he wants you to think about him and how much you love him, but he doesn't want that to dictate your life."

"_Scars remind us of where we've been, they don't have to dictate where we're going_." I quoted, thinking that Jem would probably want me to live by such a saying.

Will nodded slightly. "That and he doesn't want you to hurt yourself."

"Did he really say that?"

Will shrugged. "No, but he probably assumed that it didn't have to be said, and so I am saying it because apparently it does."

I blushed. "I'll go see him."

He grabbed my arm when I stood to leave. "Not dressed like _that_ you aren't."

I looked down at myself and saw that blood had smeared along my dress. Sophie would definitely get mad at me for that…

"Yeah," I agreed. "I suppose I'll change before I go to visit him."

Will was about to speak, but the door opened, and he quickly shoved me behind him to hide me from the prying eyes of the person at the door. I looked over his shoulder, and noticed that it was Sophie at the door, with a worried expression on her face.

"It's Jem," She said sadly. "You all better come fast."

I looked worriedly at Will, but he was already racing to the door, dragging me behind him.

_Please be okay, Jem_, I pleaded.

**AN: Yeah, that was seriously AU and OOC. I've only read the first book, and I know that Jem doesn't really die he's just Brother Zachariah (Or at least that's what I think happened, lol), but I just thought this would make a good prompt. Thanks for reading, and please review. **


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